


Disgrace

by YIWT



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YIWT/pseuds/YIWT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Avengers Lokiwhomp in response to a kinkmeme prompt requesting public sexual humiliation.  Details inside.   This story comes with a six-foot warning sign for explicit sexual violence.   No incest, at least.  But still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**   Post-Avengers Lokiwhomp.  This is in response to a kinkmeme prompt that asked for public and preferably sexual humiliation in connection with this picture:  <http://fuckyeahthorloki.tumblr.com/post/21863300744/sew-up>  The picture is gorgeous, though disturbing, and because I’ve had a *brutal* few weeks at work I went ahead and filled the prompt.  

 

**WARNING :  This story contains degrading sexual punishment \- namely, violent public anal with multiple unwelcome partners.  As well as the sewn-lips thing.  If you are at all squeamish, best avoid.   Part 4 is the nasty one.  (The chapters aren't in chronological order.)**

* * *

“Kneel, brother.”

Loki did, slow and stiff, his breath hissing worse than ever.  He went to all fours and bowed his head.

“Loki.”  Thor held out his hand, palm down.

When Loki finally looked up and saw what was required of him now, his chest heaved and he swayed where he knelt.  His gaze was pure hatred, eyes red and wet but burning with an intensity Thor had never seen.

But Thor did not waver, and at last Loki's sense of self-preservation won out over whatever vestiges of pride still remained.  He crawled forward the last few feet, grasped his brother's hand, and bent his head over it.

Thor almost flinched at the press of the ruined lips, but then Loki moved the hand to his forehead... and that was even worse.  Now he could feel cold sweat and hot tears, and Loki shaking.

He reminded himself firmly of what he was doing and why.  Steeled himself to keep his voice steady a little bit longer.  “Much better,” he growled, loudly enough to be heard.  He stepped closer and rested his free hand on Loki's head, keeping it bowed.  “You begin to learn your place.  Good.”  He looked up, marking the faces that looked problematic.  “Loki will be taken for further chastisement in private,” he said.  “You may not see him for a while.  But when you do, I expect you to remember this.  Remember what was done today and why, but also, remember that when he appears again at our table he does so _at my pleasure._   When his lips are freed to speak he does so _with my permission._   When I deem his punishment over it _is,_ and I will not take it kindly if anyone should second-guess me by subjecting him to cruelties beyond what I have ordered.  Is that clear?”  He signaled for guards.  “Now take him to my chambers.”

Loki let go with a sob, fell to all fours again, prostrated himself on the floor.  It was unclear whether it was prompted by fear or by gratitude, but Thor supposed either would be appropriate.  He watched impassively as the prisoner was hauled to his feet.  “Chain him well and leave him on the floor by the window.  _He had best be waiting there for me_ when I arrive.”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Thor dallied for an hour before returning to his room, in order to give Loki time to compose himself.   When he got there, though, Loki was still lying in a heap, shackled and on the floor as ordered, whimpering.

He waited until the door was closed and his honor guard's footsteps had died away down the corridor before speaking. “Loki. Look at me, brother. You know I had no choice.”

Without ceasing his noises Loki turned slowly, painfully, to face him. Knelt up. Shrugged, with a measure of anger.

(Thor welcomed the anger, actually; it could mean Loki’s spirit had taken less damage than he feared.) He wondered what else there was to say. Conversation was difficult with Loki unable to talk back...

But of course the silvertongue soon found a way to communicate. Without taking his eyes from his brother's Loki raised one unsteady hand and pantomimed scissors by his face.

“No.” It came out harsher than he meant it to, and they both flinched. “I am sorry, but you'll be wearing those for a few days at least. I won't have it said that I dealt too gently with you – Father would get involved.”

Loki cocked his head and touched his stomach.

“You’ll go hungry. Again, I am sorry. I will fast with you, if that helps.”

Loki wilted, sitting back heavily on his heels. Looking at the floor he requested one thing more: rubbed his fingers together a moment and then pantomimed smearing them over his mouth – careful not to actually touch the stitches.

“Salve,” Thor guessed at once. “Yes, of course-...” He frowned. “But you will have to wait until morning – I don't have anything here, and I won't be seen rushing off to the healers for you when I’m expected to be busy punishing you worse.”

Loki's brow furrowed. He signaled _salve_ again, pointed firmly to himself and then pointed to the door. Down the hall.

“You have something in your room?” Thor guessed.

Nod.

“Absolutely not. I'm sorry, brother, but your mystery potions are out of the question. You will wait until tomorrow.”

Loki swallowed hard and looked away, and Thor cast around for _something_ to offer. “Would you like a hot bath?” he suggested at last. “It might help with... some of your other aches.”

Loki shuddered, and wouldn't look at him, but nodded.

Thor went and ordered the bath drawn. When he returned he helped Loki to rise and half-supported him all the way to the bathroom. “Do you need help?"

Loki shoved at him and crossed the threshold alone. Once inside he turned and held out his wrists... hopelessly, defeatedly.

“No,” Thor said, and Loki nodded without surprise. His chains clanked as he shuffled across the floor and disappeared into the steam.

******************************************


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING for this chapter: refs to past sexual ugliness.**

A/N:  Also, this fic takes the view that in Asgard’s eyes, Loki’s big crime during Avengers was messing with a realm that Prince Thor had placed under Asgard’s protection.  I don’t think they care as much about the human lives.  If that offends your view of Asgard's morality... sorry.

* * *

The bath helped.  His shackles meant he had to sacrifice the remains of his clothing to undress, but the chains were at least long enough to let him move around and wash properly.  Scrubbing the sticky blood smears off his thighs was a relief, and though at first the hot water _burned_ in the worst places, the searing soon faded to something manageable, then soothing.

And he _needed_ to be soothed – he hurt everywhere.  When he twisted to look in a mirror he saw that he was still vivid red from waist to knees, with a few darker marks visible (partial handprints?), that would settle into bruises before long.  His skin felt burnt and sore _–_ delicate somehow, stretched too tight, as if moving without care could tear it.  That didn’t concern him much though; it wasn’t real injury, it would certainly heal before long on its own. 

It was the rest he was worried about.He almost didn’t dare reach around behind himself to assess the damage…

But he would have to, unless he wanted Thor to do it – a dreadful thought – because apparently he was not going to be allowed to see healers until people thought he had stewed long enough in his misery.  And with everyone so indignant over his supposed treason, and Thor such a pitiful slave to public opinion, who knew how long that would be.

When he examined himself gingerly his soapy hands stung – he had been rubbed completely raw, oil notwithstanding.  Even after he washed the soap away some sting lingered, so he pressed with a towel and sure enough it came away streaked with blood.  But not _too_ much blood; he would heal on his own and for that he was lucky.  Imagine trying to talk Thor through providing first aid – in pantomimes.

His face was in worse shape – even though it was not his first time being sewn into silence and at least by now experience had taught him what to do.  He’d known enough not to press his lips together, to relax as best he could and keep a hint of space open.  This way, when the swelling really set in the cords wouldn’t cut in as cruelly as they had that first time.  And he wouldn’t look as grotesque.

(Which was important – that first time he had vomited when he saw a mirror, and swallowing down a mouthful of burning bile he could not rinse for hours had been among the worst parts of the whole ordeal.)

He brought his hands up to touch – carefully, because touch was awful.  But he would apparently be living in this condition for days, so he had best become intimately familiar with it to lessen the chances that he would accidentally do something to hurt himself worse.

He felt at once that he had been wise to hold still.  The stitches were solid and even this time, none pulled tight enough to prevent him sucking in scraps of air, and thankfully they were of some artificial cord instead of leather.  Whoever’s idea it had been to use a string that shrank as it dried…

“Loki?”  A knock.  “May I come in?”

Loki growled low in his throat.  _How do you expect me to answer, you idiot?_

“I- oh.  Knock once if I may, and-”

 _BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG._ Violently dashing his chains against the tiles half a dozen times seemed an effective way to convey “no.”

“Very well.”  He heard rustling, the sound of Thor making himself comfortable outside.  “Then, I'll stay and talk to you from here.  I know you're upset.”

 _How perceptive of you!_ But withering sarcasm was of very little value if he couldn't aim it in anyone's direction, so he rapped once on the floor to signal permission to enter.

“Yes... you're upset?”  Thor guessed, hesitating.  “Or yes I can come in now?”

 _AND I SHOULD ANSWER THAT HOW?_ His blood was pounding with rage and frustration, but that was better than anything else he had been feeling this afternoon.  He banged the ground once, waited, and banged again.  _Yes on both counts, you fool.  Come in._  

Thor came in and settled on the floor against a wall.  “I can see that you're upset with me.”

_A truly brilliant deduction._

“But we will get through this.  All of this – _and_ what happened on Midgard.  We can put it all behind us, if we work together.”

He gave a stony, hateful glare.  Even curled his face into a sneer, despite the sickening _tugging_ around his mouth.

Thor huffed.  “I swore I would not throw this in your face, brother, and that is _not_ my intention.  But just allow me to remind you once: you chose your own punishment.”

Loki stiffened and closed his eyes.  _You swore you wouldn't._  He had known from the start that he ran a risk with this plan – that maybe the ordeal couldn't be shaken off as easily as he was hoping, that maybe he would be hurt in spirit as well as in body.  Thor had promised never to compound his misery by telling him _I told you so._ He had promised.

“I would never have suggested that horror myself,” Thor went on.  Defensive – not deliberately accusing – but still.  “It was _your_ idea, and you cannot hate me for following a course _you_ charted.”

 _You told me I could choose to be killed, or crippled, or locked away.  I suggested disgrace as an alternative – that hardly qualifies as a choice._ If Thor said one more word to blame him he would get out of the water and wring his neck. 

“Loki...”

He assessed his chances, and they actually were not bad – Thor would hesitate to hurt him at first, which might give him time to throw on a strangle with his wrist chain.  Mjolnir would be of little use to a man busy clutching at his throat.

“I had to do _something._   You know I did.”

He sounded almost desperate, but Loki was in no mood to be kind.  _You ordered your younger brother violated – repeatedly – and you watched the whole thing.  That is **something** , indeed._

“Loki?  You promised not to hold it against me.  This is not fair.”

_Oh, poor Prince Thor!  Let us pity him with all our hearts._

He took a deep breath – through his nose – and sank all the way underwater to muffle the whining.

* * *

 


	4. This is the disgusting one.

**WARNING:**   This chapter is Loki's punishment in vivid detail. **SKIP THIS IF YOU FIND VIOLENT GANG-RAPES DISTURBING**. Skip this if you don't like to see Loki cry. (Basically, I'd pretty much advise any and all readers to just go ahead and skip it regardless.) Is that clear enough?

******************************************************

The stitching always made Thor queasy, so he didn't stay to watch this time. Instead he waited in the throne room, with a few of his more trusted lieutenants, the four he had chosen to carry out Loki's plan. _I have had enough of his pride and disobedience,_ he had explained. _And his cowardly, womanish tactics. I need to teach him a lesson._ A few meaningful looks, a few murmurs. _But he's family, so I can't do it myself._

They had been disturbingly willing. _He won't defy you again, Thor. And this'll be it for his delusions of grandeur. No more playing at king of the world – he won't lord anything over anyone after this._

When Loki was dragged in he was struggling. People shoved him down at Thor's feet and he glared up, and even with his mouth so disfigured his expression was plainly readable: misery. Anger. Dread.

“You need a lesson, brother,” Thor said coolly. He had sworn, so many times, not to flinch or hesitate or change his mind. “I'm sure by now someone has told you what it's going to be.”

He heard a nasty laugh from somewhere. Yes, there were a few who had no doubt _delighted_ in giving Loki the “news” of what was in store for him. He had many enemies. All these men here had been only too glad to take part in dishonoring him.

“Pull that table over here. We'll use that.” Thor kicked at the pair of shackles he'd had brought. “Strip him, and bind him if he fights.”

*******************************************

Loki glowered at his brother as his arms were gathered behind his back with force. They hadn't discussed the use of _restraints._ The ripping off of his clothes he had expected, and could handle. But chains he had not foreseen.

Annoyance was much preferable to fear. He did his best to continue feeling annoyed as he was bent firmly over the table and someone came up behind him. He heard spitting – which was disgusting, and he felt annoyed about that too.

He lost control of his thought process, though, when the person speared into his body without any preparation at all.

The pain was too sharp – _too_ sharp. He needed a minute, but he didn't get one as the man began pistoning right away and the pain never got any better. He squeaked and struggled – he knew he could bear it, if they just gave him a minute. Just a minute. _Wait._

It went without pause and it was over almost before it started, a handful of short harsh thrusts and then one that went much deeper, and stayed.

 _Finished already,_ he thought. _Excellent._ The man yanked out, and he was left cramped and hurting, but still. Done. _That's not so bad,_ he encouraged himself, lying, _You can do that three more times, it's no problem at all. Here we go again. And:_

But he changed his tune almost instantly – this next invading prick felt _enormous,_ wedging its way in just a little and then pausing. To let him get acclimated? What a considerate rapist.

He tried to think past the pain but he could hardly breathe. _Relax, open up, don't fight._ Easier said than done; when it pushed deeper he clamped down with all his strength, whining into his shoulder. _Too much stop stop wait_.

It didn't stop again, not til someone's hairy thighs were scratching against him and the prick was jammed in all the way. It was too much. He could feel himself ripping around it. _Stop_.

People laughed at his squirming, commented on how _tight_ he was, on how he would be fucked right open, that he should shut up and take it like the bitch he was. Then it started _moving,_ and he was so far in hell he couldn't hear what anyone was saying at all.

It seared its way out, slowly, every inch a new torture he felt all over again. And then when it started to force back in, he started to cry. _Please,_ he even tried to say, but of course it was unintelligible.  His stomach had knotted up so hard he began to feel sick.

_Do. Not. Vomit._

That would be a wonderful way to go. Drowning in his own puke with someone's oversized prick rooting around in his bowels. _Do not vomit, do-not-vomit._

The man shifted position suddenly, moving with rhythm now, picking up speed. That wouldn't have been _possible_ when he started; Loki really was getting fucked open and people commented on it immediately. If he paid attention to the pain he could ignore the snickers. He wasn't sure which was worse.

After an eternity the man paused, wedged fully inside. “I'm chafing,” he complained. “Someone get me some oil. He's got an ass like a vice.”

“Not for long.”

But he couldn't hear any more of their conversation because when the man worked his way out the friction was almost enough to rob him of consciousness.

Eventually the prick was nudging at him again, and even the nudging hurt, and then suddenly he was totally split open. It slid, because there was oil now. It slid in and out, and for the first time there were long full strokes, going deep into his body... now he felt he was being _used_. Now this was a fucking.

People were whistling, satisfied. This was just what they wanted to see: arrogant Prince Loki reduced to a mewling meat-hole. Ugh. He closed his eyes and tried to take it quietly. The stretch and burn were still terrible, his bowels were cramping fiercely and even his stomach was starting to ache. He told himself it couldn't be much longer.

It wasn't _much_ longer, but the oil gave out before the rapist did and the last few strokes grated so painfully he yelped with each.

When it was done he told himself: _That's half way,_ but the thought was not really comforting because it was _only_ halfway. _You have to grease the next one up,_ he wanted to say, but he couldn't talk and they were already manhandling him into position anyway.

The uncuffed him this time, tossed him up on the table on his back. Bent his knees up to his chest. From here he could _see_ everyone, including the one who was-…

He closed his eyes as he was penetrated – swiftly and with force. This one’s style was just plain steady pounding, but he wasn't so freakishly proportioned that Loki needed to pray for death. Now he just lay still kept his eyes closed and waited for it to be over.

_Almost over. Almost. Over. Al. Most. O. Ver._

He chanted it to himself. Over and over and over, the whole while this one grunted and rutted and made him burn. _Al. Most. O. Ver. Al. Most. O. Ver. Al. Most-_

He was interrupted mid-chant by a stream of obscenities at the finish. By then he hurt so much that it hardly seemed to get better when the man pulled out.

 _There. Over. Now get up,_ he told himself. It was over. He wanted to go home.

Nobody stopped him as he climbed slowly off the table and crouched down with great care to pick up his clothes. Then, just as he was starting to dress himself...

“Loki. What are you doing, brother?”

 _I'm leaving, what does it look like?_ He turned to Thor with a frown; what more could Thor want after the brutality he had just endured?

But there was still one warrior standing at the prince's shoulder. “Did you miscount? You are not finished.”

 _What_? Loki felt panic rising. _One, two, three... Four. There should have been four. Weren’t there?_

He shook his head and hugged himself. Brought his hands together for a brief gesture of supplication. _No more, Thor. Surely it's enough? They’ve had their fun, look at me, this is one well-raped traitor and you don’t need to-_

“Back as you were. _Now_ , Loki.” Harsh and impatient – undoubtedly because _he_ wanted this over as quickly as possible too, but that was cold comfort. “Now, or it will be half a dozen more instead of one.”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to bend over the table under his own power, but someone grasped his shoulders and took care of it. _Last time,_ he reminded himself, but the thought didn’t help much.

He was so slimy with blood and spend that this last prick slid in almost without resistance. But he was also so sore and abraded that it hurt worse than ever. He tensed up everywhere and hoped to faint.

“Look at that,” the man laughed, grinding his hips around. “He feels like a back-alley whore. Loose and sloppy and _ugh_.”

 _Loose_ was not the word Loki would have chosen; he felt stuffed, swollen, impaled. The gyration was agony and he gripped uselessly at the tabletop and let out a gargle that would have been _Please_.

“Did you hear that?” someone said. “I think he likes it.”

“Oh – is that so? You like it?” This from the man behind him, the man sawing away at his insides and laughing about it. He began to whimper and squirm. It was just too much – too painful, too _mean_ to cooperate with.

“Ah-ah,” the man chided. “ _Don't_ you try getting away.” He heard the _CRACK_ of a slap, and a moment later white-hot pain burst over him and he jumped.

And squeaked. Which drew laughter. Loki heard it and knew knew he'd made a mistake and, sure enough, without even withdrawing the man began to spank him in earnest. Brutally hard open-handed slaps on the buttocks, repeated, incessant, and almost immediately he was squawking and trying to fight.

Once he was thrashing too hard to contain, some of the others came and dragged him up to lie on the table and held him that way so he could be hit without disturbance. He hated the wet slapping sound on his sweaty skin, but pinned and with his mouth sewn he had no way to drown it out. And he _hated_ the pain – it was building with every blow.

Everyone was in high mirth. “This is one prince who's needed a spanking since he was about seven,” he heard someone say, and it went on, and he _knew_ the best way to make it stop was to lie still and keep quiet and quit providing such good entertainment, but his flesh was on _fire_ and every slap made him howl, wildly enough even to pull at his stitches. He tried to stop moving and focus on screaming through his nose.

“Hey! Hey!” Someone called for order, and at last the hands all went still. “Hey: Thor. Get in here.” Murmurs of agreement. “Honestly _you're_ the one should be giving him his lesson – and this is all right, even for family.”

“ _Especially_ for family,” someone laughed, and Loki felt the crowd shift around him.

He shook his head no. No, no, no.

Then there was a hand on his back that he _knew_ was Thor's.

_No. Don't take any part in this._

“A valid point, my friends.”

_No-_

He couldn't think any more once the first blow landed. It was _vicious,_ the full strength of Thor's arm behind it, so powerful it drove the very breath from his lungs. His brother never had been one to do things by halves.

When he finally felt the sting – it was a long moment coming – it was overwhelming and his eyes screwed shut and he wailed like a child.

Loud laughter, cheers, whistles. Someone poked at him gleefully. “Look at the handprint! Do it again!”

Loki made desperate sounds of negation in his throat, but over the ruckus he couldn't even hear himself. He tried to brace up... and the second stroke was as bad as the first.

“Thor! Thor! Thor!”

They were chanting, and Thor was _laughing,_ and when the slaps started coming faster he could swear this was beyond Thor playing along now; this was Thor enthusiastic, and with his men egging him on he would go for hours.

That thought, even more than the pain, broke Loki all at once and he stopped fighting and began to sob instead.

A limp weeping ragdoll made a much less amusing victim, and before long the men lost interest in spanking. They calmed down. As they moved away many of them patted him idly, even ruffled his hair. _Success,_ he thought, numb for the moment. That lazy, almost affectionate contempt was exactly what he needed: even Father at his most paranoid could not think him a threat now.

Loki lay still for a while, throbbing, trying to stop crying because it was becoming difficult to breathe.

Someone whistled. “Oy – Thor.”

He didn’t see what hand signals passed between them, but then Thor said, brisk and serious: “Yes. Loki: get up.”

He couldn't exactly _get up_ off the table, but he did manage to drag himself to the edge and fall down onto his knees on the floor.

“ _Get up_ , I said.”

He didn't like the steel in his brother's voice but that only made him cooperate faster. The last thing he needed was for people to decide he needed another _lesson_.

“Ahem.” From beside him. He turned and saw the one who had _started_ the spanking... the one who had been in the process of raping him a little while ago... who had not finished...

 _No._ He shook his head wildly.

“Get back how I had you,” the man ordered, and Loki looked to his brother for help.

But Thor crossed his arms. “Do as he says, Loki.” He stepped back to his spot by the head of the table. “It's about time you learned to start following orders.”

There was no mercy here – no mercy _anywhere;_ he had been a fool to even entertain hope that there might be. Loki told himself to step back up to the table. He shut his mind to exactly what would happen there, and got his shaking legs wide and leaned his weight on his hands.

“Get down on your elbows,” the man said.

He looked to Thor again, though why, he didn't know. Thor only shrugged. “You heard him.”

He did as he was told and kept his eyes on Thor's as he was gripped by the shoulder.

“Here we go, beautiful,” the man chuckled. “One for the road.”

The hips popped forward, driving all the way in. Pain stabbed through Loki's guts and flared up in his sore buttocks all at once, and he barked out a short miserable noise before he could get his voice under control.

Instead of grinding around like before the man began to thrust slow and steady. “Oh, that's smooth,” he purred.

 _Smooth?_ It felt like a file.

“Move with me now,” he ordered. “Stop pulling away.”

Loki had his eyes locked on Thor's. _Don't_ , he willed, but of course: “Do as you're told, brother.”

So he moved _with_ the torture, moved his hips back and forth even though it made the pain worse.

“Little harder,” the man said. “ _That's_ it, now that's right, good boy. _Now_ you're behaving. See that?” he added, past Loki's shoulder. “ _Now_ he's taking his orders, isn't he.” He murmured down to Loki's ear: “Spread your legs some more. That’s it – wider.”

Loki obeyed, and Thor _nodded at him._ Approving.

He shuddered and he was going to be sick.

For a while the man said nothing else, and his measured pace – the relentless rasping pain – did not change. Then: “We really fucked him out. He's so slack I could do this forever.”

There were snickers.

Then he leaned close over Loki's ear and said: “And so nice and wet I probably will.” He _licked._

At that Loki really did retch – and Thor made a face. “All right: you're not there to make love to him,” he growled. “Punish him well and be done.”

There were whoops of agreement, noises of disgust. Then someone started a chant: “Punish! Punish!” and others joined in.

The man held his hips and did just that, hard slamming thrusts like gut-punches until he finished with a flood that _stung_ inside. Loki could feel it. It itched and burned his already burning flesh as it oozed out of him, and when they finally let him stand up he wanted to wipe the mess away, but was too revolted to even touch it.

 _Can I have a cloth,_ he thought almost in a panic, looking around at faces with not a shred of compassion in them. _For pity's sake give me something to clean off with. Please._

But before he could make himself understood, they were ushering him away from the table to stand in front of...

Thor.

_Thor, help me._

Thor took a deep breath and stood straight. “Kneel, brother.”

***********************************************

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:  So, this is the beginning.  With no warnings!  Also, I think Thor's attitude here might be bizarre, but it's canon.  In Avengers he shows up and isnt like "Loki you need to stop killing innocent people," hes like: "Loki, get ur hands off MY world!!!"  So, that's his view.**

*************************************

Thor spoke for almost twenty minutes, without a single interruption from his brother.

This was because his brother was in a cell, gagged.  Knowing it was the _only_ way he would get a chance to talk to Loki at any length, Thor had proposed a bargain: “You will stay as you are and listen to every word I want to say to you.  _Then_ I will unlock that device, and you may have _your_ say, and it will be my turn to listen.  All right?”

Loki's answer had been an exasperated eye-roll, which he took for consent.

He told Loki that he loved him, that he missed him, that he had been distraught by his suicide and deeply wounded by his silence.  “I was suffering,” he finished, “More horribly than I can say.  And all I would have needed was to know that you lived.  Could you not have taken _one moment_ to end my pain?”

That was when Loki's eyes first dropped, just for an instant, and Thor took heart.  He went on to say that he knew Loki still cared, that they could still make up, that all could be well again.  He talked a little bit about Midgard – explained, as Jane had explained to him, that Midgard did not _want_ a king.  (As much as it sorely needed one.)  He also reminded Loki that the mortals didn't value a death in battle like normal people, that many of them actually preferred a long life to a glorious one. 

“They have their own ideas.  You should not have brought that war down upon them, Loki.  Even though it ended in fantastic victory, still they would not have wanted it, if you asked.  That was wrong – and I _told_ you so.  I _told_ you to leave the mortals alone.”

He spread his hands.  “Yet you disobeyed me, in a spectacular and public fashion.  You invoked Asgard's name and did just what I told you not to do.”  Loki was scowling, it looked like.  Well, he would like this next bit even less.  “It's not the first time you've brought destruction on another realm against orders, brother, and something has to be done.”  He couldn't quite meet Loki's eyes for this; Loki was going to hate him.  “As king, Father has less room for leniency than I do, so I've asked for charge of your punishment myself.  I will protect you as best I can.”  It was cowardly to avoid his brother's gaze, he knew that, so finally he made himself look back – scowling too.  “Provided you stop trying to kill me, stop saying hateful things about me and about my friends, and start behaving in a manner that befits a prince of Asgard.  Do you understand me?”

Loki growled like an animal.

“Well, in any event, you have no choice.”  He shrugged.  “But I assure you I look forward to this as little as you do.”

Loki made a face that was unfriendly and sarcastic – _that's a lie; you'll delight in making me miserable –_ and it stung.

“I saw you _die,_ brother,” he said shortly.  “I never want you harmed again.”  

At that, Loki seemed to soften... though he did gesture to himself with a somewhat incredulous expression.

Thor reached through the bars and brushed over one of the scrapes on his face.  “We were in the middle of a battle – on opposite sides.  That does not count.”  Loki didn't argue.  “Now let me take that muzzle off, and we’ll plan a path forward.”  He fumbled for the clasp.

The moment he could speak again Loki said: “This is your fault.”  His voice was creaky and he cleared his throat twice before trying again.  “You made some comment in public about Midgard being under _your_ protection.  And you complained very loudly about my having visited it.  Didn't you.”

Thor pressed his lips together – it was Loki's turn to speak and he must not argue.  He just nodded.

“And so now you must take action; it would set a bad precedent otherwise.  Fine: I understand the problem.”  He took a deep breath and started to pace, rubbing his hands together.  “Then you’ll need to do something public, something memorable and gruesome, something that will deter people from following in my disobedient footsteps.  And the most important thing is it cannot look like we planned it together.”  He pointed to the gag on the floor.  “That thing was the right idea – we can't have me arguing or begging.  You might relent – and if you don't, people will wonder why; they know I can talk circles around you any day of the week.”

Thor made a face.  “Why, thank you, brother.”

“I only speak the truth.”  He shrugged.  “So, we silence me.  Not with that device though; people will prefer the sewing.  We'll start with that.”

He winced.  “Loki...”

“It's a short step from _disobedience_ to _treason,_ and if that word's been thrown around I am in serious danger.  Has it?”  Thor didn't answer.  “As I thought.  Then there is no room for squeamishness.”  He drew himself up.  “Watch and learn, Thor: the key to a successful deception is total commitment.  Now what next?”

It felt so good and so right to be on Loki's _side_ again, working together... even on such a terrible project.  He couldn't bring himself to refuse.  “Sewing your lips will explain why you don't talk your way out of the sentence.  All that remains is to determine what the sentence _is._ ”  In case Loki was harboring any illusions about the seriousness of the situation, he added: “People have asked for your life, brother.”

“Which you don't plan to give them.”

“Of course not.  I plan imprisonment.  Partly for my own sake,” he admitted.  “So that you cannot disappear again.  And so that you'll _have_ to interact with me, as I can deprive you of all other entertainment until boredom drives you to respond.”  He told himself he was joking.

Loki's lips twisted – almost a smile.  “Are you so sure you're more entertaining than counting cracks on the dungeon walls?”

“I would not keep you in a dungeon.”  But it did no good to make promises he could not keep, so he added:  “Or, if I have to, I'll have it made comfortable.  You can have anything you want.”

“I see.”  Loki thought for a while, then decided: “I'm afraid I'm not interested in living out my days in a cell.”

“I didn't say imprisonment _forever,_ ” Thor assured quickly.  “Only until...”

When he couldn't finish the sentence Loki did it for him.  “Only until I've seen the error of my ways and repented?” he suggested.  Snorting.  “In other words: forever.  No thank you, brother.  I would prefer a quick execution to a slow rot.  No prison.”  He continued pacing.

“Loki...” he sighed.  “You must accept _some_ punishment for what you did.”

“I am willing to accept _some_ punishment.  How about exile?”  He paused, facing away, and shrugged.  “I think my real crime is being unacceptable to Asgard in principle, so it seems singularly fitting.  Don't you think?”

“Exile?”  Thor frowned.  He had no intention of losing sight of Loki again, ever.  “When your magic recovers you'll be dangerous, especially if nobody is keeping an eye on you,” he pointed out.  Loki tensed, and he knew immediately that he had the right idea.  “If you want exile you may have it – but only if we go see Father first about putting a more permanent binding on you.  A strong one which will last forever.  He's done it to other sorcerers in the past; I'm sure he could do it to you.”

“No!  How many times must I tell you: my magic is a part of me and I won’t live without it,” Loki snarled.  “The _only_ reason I didn't put up a fight over Father's poison just now is I know how carefully he brews it and I'm confident it will wear off in a few days as usual.  If there were _any_ possibility of the effects lasting...  Do not suggest it again, Thor.  The thought makes me ill; I'd prefer death.  Even an ugly death.”

“Would you-!  Loki.  Death is out of the question.”

“Then we'd best think of an alternative.”  He sighed and finally turned around.  “Father's real concern is future treason,” he said.  “Some sort of faction forming up around me.  All we have to do is make me unattractive to Asgard's finest, make me even _more_ unattractive than I am already, and the concern disappears.”  His eyebrows lifted.  “What about telling them what I really am?”

“That you're-...”  Thor shook his head hard.  “There has never, _ever_ been a more unsafe time to confess your parentage, Loki.  After you've brought trouble and shame to Asgard people will naturally think the worst.  Someone _will_ kill you then, whether I forbid it or not.”

Loki was undeterred.  “Then, we'll think of something else.  Some sort of disgrace in front of the court – in front of the most important warlords, your _friends_ as it were.  Show me unworthy, unfit to rule, permanently tainted.  If we foreclose the possibility of my forming any dangerous alliances in the future, then in Father's eyes there's no need for death or imprisonment or any of the rest.”  His gaze was hard.  “Then it is between you and me.  And we'll settle our differences somehow; we always do.”

It sounded good – almost too good to be true.  Thor wondered about the catch.  “Will you promise to settle with me?” he asked at last.  “To offer me your friendship again – at least to try?  I know I was not a perfect brother to you, but you left before I had a chance to change.  I want that chance now – and then we can stage your supposed punishment however you wish.”  He offered his hand, through the bars.

Loki took it.  “Agreed.  Call your men together – the ones Father will worry about, the ones cleverest about their ambition, the worst gossips.  Anyone you would most hate to be embarrassed in front of.  We'll do it tomorrow.”

“Do what, exactly?”

“I have the beginnings of an idea – but give me a little time to think it over, make sure it's good enough.  The last thing we want is Father unsatisfied – we'd have to start again.”

*********************************************************

 


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:  And now we are back to afterwards.  This is after Loki’s bath.**

**********************************************

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, Loki wrapped himself in a blanket and began eyeing the bed.

“ _No._ ”  Thor winced at his own tone – again.  “Not after we've come so far, brother.  We won't take a risk over something so trivial as a hard floor.  If anyone walks in…”

Loki nodded wearily.  He was quiet for a moment, and then made for the desk and wrote a note.

 _Fine.  Hall floor outside your door,_ the note said.  _Like a bad dog.  Long enough chain?_

Thor assessed.  “Yes – the one they left is long enough if we anchor it to this chair.”

Loki nodded, and wrote again.  Underlining three times for emphasis:  _KNIFE._ He held out his hand.

“Knife?”  Thor shook his head.  “I _told_ you, the stitches have to stay until-”

He was interrupted by a cuff to the face.  Loki wrote:  _For protection._

Oh.  Thor swallowed.  That Loki should have to be so afraid in his own house...  “You- you don't need to worry,” he insisted.  “I _said_ that no one is to touch you.  You heard me.”

_‘When it's over,’ you said._

Thor hesitated.

_All it takes is one._

He was right – all it took was _one_ person to decide that Loki was fair game, and...  Anything could happen.  He would be chained on the floor, unable to fight, or spellcast, or get away.  Unable even to call for help. 

Well, that was unacceptable, and yet... “If I give you a knife, everyone will know we're in league,” he pointed out.  “And if someone should actually harass you, the last thing you need now is to be accused of murder.  No knife.  Let me think.  Yes.”

Without further pause he threw his door open and ushered Loki out into the hall.  He gave a piercing whistle for guards, and when they appeared around the corner he shoved Loki to the floor and looped a chain through his shackles.  “He sleeps here,” he told the guards.  Loki's anger and surprise – and his noises of pain – were genuine as he struggled up to his knees again.  “He's not to move from this spot until morning, and he's not to be helped – _or disturbed_ – by anyone.  If tomorrow comes and he is not in exactly the state I've left him, I’ll throw you both in a cell and you won’t see daylight for a year.  Is that clear?”

They said it was.

**********************************************

Thor spent much of the night sitting on the floor in his room, against the door, listening to his brother cry softly.  Morning was a long time coming.

**********************************************

Pain and revulsion and self-pity had kept him up for a while, but Loki knew he must have slept eventually, because suddenly it was light and his lips felt hard and swollen.  He knocked on the door until Thor let him in, and wrote a note insisting that the wounds be cleaned.   _Liquor is fine,_ he offered, by way of compromise.  _You don’t have to get the healers yet._

The taste of alcohol made Loki’s empty stomach clench… but it also told him he could suck in a little liquid if he tried.  _Breakfast?_  he wrote.  Now that he thought about food he was _starving._   He was more than happy to release Thor from his promise of fasting in return for a glass of something.  Besides, it would give everyone a chance to see him in a state of humiliation and misery.  All part of the plan.

Once he explained all this, Thor agreed it was sense and took him down to eat.  Loki ignored the whispers – the nasty whispers _and_ the horrified ones – and when one or two people actually acknowledged his presence with a quiet greeting, he nodded politely.

What dignity he managed to salvage with his entrance was quickly lost when Thor poured him a dish of milk – on the floor.  He took the hint, and bent to slurp instead of lifting it.  It was uncomfortable and inefficient, but milk was far better than nothing and he drank three plates of it.

Eventually Thor called his name and pointed to his usual seat – which everyone had left empty.  “Come join us, brother.  Sit.”

He shook his head.  Thor knew perfectly well he could not sit down; the hard chair looked like a torture device to someone who-

“I said sit _._   Now.”  Thor slapped on the wood once, hard, and Loki flinched at the sound.  He heard titters.

He rose carefully, pulled the chair out carefully, and clinging to its arms lowered himself very gently to brush against the seat.

“You are trying my patience.”

Stalling was not going to make anything easier, so finally he steeled himself and sat down with all his weight.  He sucked in his breath in an agonized hiss, jerked and twitched with the flashes of pain that shot up through him, broke into a cold sweat.

Thor looked over at him with an arched eyebrow, and then went back to eating.  “You look a little uncomfortable, brother.”  More laughter – and whispers, as anyone who hadn’t known yet, learned.

*************************************************

Thor was kept busy most of the day and Loki hid out in the bedroom, but as soon as they had time alone together Thor cut the stitches.  Loki picked the threads out himself, carefully, ignoring the fidgeting going on behind him and definitely ignoring the offers of help.  He rinsed his mouth thoroughly.  “There,” he croaked when he was done.  His face felt stiff and useless.

As soon as he was speaking again, Thor demanded: “What did he say to you?”

Loki frowned – and then winced; frowning hurt.  “What?”  .

“This morning.  When we arrived for breakfast.  Someone took you aside and…?”

It had been some polite _hope-things-improve-for-you_ sort of comment, if he remembered correctly.  He cleared his throat and tried to enunciate around the swelling.  “Ah, it was… nothing.”

“Loki.”

“Honestly, it meant nothing,” he protested.  Took a sip of water.  He could feel the itch that said healing was beginning – perhaps his magic was beginning to return a little ahead of schedule.  That would be nice.

“What did he say?” Thor pressed.

Loki said it without emotion and without raising his eyes from the floor.  “He said that he heard about what happened and that he’s sorry he missed it.”  Thor sucked in his breath; the words were slow and a little slurred, but intelligible.  “And he said he’s looking forward to my _next_ attitude adjustment _,_ and hopes he’ll get to take part.  He says it will be a lesson I never forget.  _Thor_ ,” he protested quickly, as Thor began to erupt, “We knew people would say things like that, brother, that’s the whole point.  Hush.”  He held Thor’s wrist firmly with one hand, stroked down his arm with the other.  Like calming a wild beast.  “Hush, we have to let it go.  There’s nothing you can do; he would know we’re in league.  Come on.”

“Loki…” he protested, voice thick.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

Thor pulled free and turned his back.  Shoulders heaving.

_**********************************************_

But public opinion did not improve, and a few nights later, after some particularly vicious comments, Loki locked himself in the bathroom and declared that he was staying there for the foreseeable future _._  “Let them say what they like,” he sniffed.  “I could care less for their stupid opinions.”

Thor did not say: _Then why are we having this conversation through a locked bathroom door?_ Instead, he tried for something more compassionate.  “Brother… be honest with me.  I know you’re upset.”

The _thump_ of Loki’s head falling wearily against the door.  Then silence for a while.  Finally Loki said: “I believe I may have miscalculated.”

Loki admitting error was so rare that Thor just held his breath and tried to think of what to say.

Before he could decide on anything Loki explained: “I thought that once I got well I would forget it easily.  And that living in disgrace would not matter.  I think perhaps I was wrong on both counts.”

Thor swallowed.  “How can I help?”

A sigh.  “I can’t stay here.  In Asgard.”

“Brother…”

The door swung open suddenly.  “I know I owe you friendship.  I don’t plan to renege.”

“It’s-… you don’t _owe_ me-…”  He couldn’t finish.

“Are you _crying_?”

“No.”

Loki huffed.  “I thought we’d made a better liar out of you than that.”

At the thought of the lies he had told lately, the lie he had _lived,_ his upset got worse.  He choked down a lump in his throat and tried to breathe steadily.  “I am sorry.  For this, for- _everything._   So sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Loki said firmly.  “For once in your life you _haven’t_ done me any wrong.  Don’t be sorry – only don’t stand in my way.  I am leaving.  Now.”

“Loki…”

“You can tell everyone I’ve slunk off to live in a cave in shame or something,” Loki said.  “I’ll send Mother a note and she can decide what Father needs to know.  As for you I _will_ keep in contact – I’ll write, and I’ll return or make arrangements to meet you elsewhere.  Yes?”

As much as he did not want Loki to disappear, he would not prevent him.  Could not.  Loki had suffered enough already.  “If… if that is truly what you wish….”

He followed Loki around while Loki packed a bag.  Numb.   He watched Loki magic open a portal and step into it, and could find no way to stop him.  Not ten minutes had passed since Loki first announced his decision, and now he was almost gone, and Thor _still_ did not know what to say.  “Thank you, brother,” Loki said, just before he vanished.  “And farewell.”

**************************************************


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:  Takes place during & after the previous chapter.**

********************************************

Loki couldn’t stay at the breakfast table long after Thor made him sit down in front of everyone. (A stroke of genius, that order; Thor really _had_ taken his instructions about total commitment to heart.) He soon began begging, with gestures, for permission to leave. When he got it he started off, but since he could hardly walk it took a terrifically long time to get upstairs.

In the halls people passed him left and right, whispering and not offering to help.

But then he ran into a young woman in a healer’s robe. She grabbed his arm and pressed a small jar into his hand. “If Prince Thor asks,” she said, “You didn’t get that from me.”

He felt a flash of amusement and twitched her his best approximation of a smile – did she think _he_ needed to be cautioned about schemes and secrecy? He put a hand over his heart and bowed. _Thank you._

“Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything I can do _safely_ , I mean – I’m not up for getting on his bad side myself. This is disgusting.”

Loki blinked. For the first time it occurred to him that the plan might damage Thor’s reputation as well as his own. (At least, Thor’s reputation among the gentle and compassionate of Asgard. Such people existed, albeit in small numbers.)

Thor didn’t deserve the girl’s loathing, so Loki shook his head firmly and began explaining, in charades. He indicated a crown and hammer.

“Prince Thor…?” she translated. He went on, nodding for her when she guessed correctly. “Thank...? Me… For that balm? Shh, secret.” She frowned, not comprehending, so he tried more something more basic.

“Prince Thor… sad… your mouth.”

Nod.

“Secret.”

Nod. But she still didn’t appear to understand, so he swallowed down his hatred of saccharine inanities and signaled once more.

“Prince Thor… loves… you.” She blinked. “ _Oh_. Oh, I understand. But… then why…? What, is this all for his image or something?”

He wiggled a hand at her: _Sort of._ Then he pantomimed a much larger crown. Covered one eye, and wagged his finger.

“Ah.”

He decided to continue. Now that he was already trusting the girl he might as well make as much use of her as he could. A confederate could be helpful – once he could communicate more easily. So he started signing again.

“You… talk… to me… faraway, scissors? Oh – oh oh, _later_. You’ll come talk to me later once the stitches are cut out.”

He nodded and bowed thanks, and then said once more: _Secret._

***************************************************

Three days after Loki had gone, Thor was still languishing in his room. Reminders of Loki were everywhere – and universally painful. His shredded clothing in a heap by the bath. The bits of string on the desk where he’d at last been allowed to pick them out, whimpering with every step but steadfastly refusing help. The bloodstains on the carpet under the window.

He knew it was about time to go out and face the world again – and let someone clean his chambers in the meantime! – but he was not yet sure he could be civil. _These people_ had driven Loki away. Not just the ones who had actually hurt him… but everyone else. They treated him with disdain, they whispered behind his back and sneered to his face, they made even someone who cared not at all for popularity too much an outcast to bear.

A soft knock eventually disturbed his brooding. “My prince?” Hesitant, careful. Female.

“Enter,” he said. Curious, because his private chambers were not disturbed lightly.

A young healer entered and bowed. “I have a message for you from Prince Loki.”

Instantly Thor was on his feet. “Loki? Where is he? Is he all right? Will he-”

“No no,” she interrupted hastily, “Not from _now._ It’s a message from before he left. He asked me to wait a few days and then repeat it to you.”

“Ah.” Thor crossed his arms. Loki had left him almost without a word, and it occurred to him afterwards that even Loki would not be so cruel a second time. He had expected him to write, and had been waiting eagerly for the note. He would have _preferred_ that, something in Loki's handwriting, something he could carry around and treasure in the (likely) event Loki delayed his promised visit for half a lifetime.

But he would take what he could get. “What is the message?”

“He says hello. And that he's not angry with you for any of it,” she began. “In fact, he commends you for the excellent job you did. He said he's serious about that,” she added a moment later. “It’s not sarcasm.”

Thor frowned. Knowing Loki, even _that_ might be sarcasm.

“He promises to return to see you. He says in the meantime he'll miss you.” She broke into a fond smile. “I asked whether he’d like me to also say he loves you… and he made a face and said he doesn’t care either way. Which I believe means yes.”

Thor’s mood lifted just a little; he could see it happening exactly as she described. “Thank you for pressing him.” Loki would never have said it without prompting.

She nodded. “He also _said_ that he’s all right,” the girl went on. “Several times.” Her voice was heavily laced with skepticism but she did not comment.

Thor sighed. It was always impossible to read Loki, and it was doubly impossible to read Loki through a second-hand report of his words. Which was no doubt the reason he had chosen to leave his message in this fashion in the first place. “Is there anything else?”

“Um, yes.” She took a deep breath. “He reminds you that he requested exile from the beginning.”

Before Thor could think it through on his own, she – Loki – twisted the knife for him.

“He says he wishes you had just listened to him then,” she went on, “So that all of this could have been avoided. But he’s gotten what he wanted, and he is satisfied.”

“That- it-, he-...” He wasn't sure what to say. Loki had intended this – all of it? Or Loki was lying, claiming credit now for a well-laid plan, when really it all was the unanticipated disaster he had suggested the other night through the bathroom door? That night his voice had been soft and rough – as if he spoke truth, a difficult truth. But he had also been hiding where nobody could see his face: the safest way to lie.

And _now_ he was obscuring the truth even further.

“Well-... what did _you_ think?” he asked the girl at last. “Is he angry – does he blame me? Is he upset? Or is he well and only being cruel because he's Loki and...?”

She shrugged, prim. “I swore not to share what I thought. And he says you surely would not want me to break a promise I made him.”

Thor glowered at her. He should have expected Loki to think of everything. “Very well. Is there anything else?”

“Only that he requests that you neither weep nor shout the next time you meet, though he fully expects you will do both. And lastly, this:” She came to him, stood on tiptoe and kissed him on both cheeks. “He says farewell, brother; we'll see each other again.”

*******************************************************

**The End.**

**Okay: all done!  If you made it this far you're a trooper; I know it was gross, sorry.  Let me know what you thought!  And if you someday come looking for this fic again and can't find it, it's because I orphanned it.**


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